The Secret Life Of Marshall Mason
by Dante de Troy
Summary: Who is Marshall Mason? Just a normal guy. Right?


The Secret Life of Marshall Mason By Joshua "Dante" Epstein  
  
Who am I? My name is Marshall Mason, and I am the perfect example of the average American citizen in the year two thousand and two. I have a good job for Cobalt Cable communications. I work from home, making test calls. It's a good job. I set my own hours, I work whenever I want, and they pay me a pretty fair amount. I guess you'd say I have it pretty good. Except for one thing. Almost every morning I wake up and can't remember much of anything about the night before. I'd say that's a bit of a problem.  
  
Now, I'd like to talk to you plainly for a minute, away from the confines of my own conscious. Neat, huh? See, even I'm not aware I know a lot of what I'm about to tell you. That's kind of the idea. See, I have another life. Not to say that there's anything wrong with my regular one. Heck, it's the kind of life that most people would kill to have. I live in a nice two-bedroom place in the city, I have a good job that pays the bills, and I get a fair amount of dates. The other one isn't necessarily better. It is a good deal more exciting though. While I do occasionally enjoy sending test hits to random I.P. addresses for Cobalt, chasing down the latest superhuman tyrant has a unique sort of thrill. Are you confused yet, because I know that I would be.  
  
I guess the best way to do this would be to explain my other life. I'm not from Earth, to begin with. I came here, oh about fort years ago thanks to a guy named Erdel. Well, not me Marshall Mason, but me as in J'Onn J'Onnz, formerly of the fourth globe from the sun. One thing I figured out pretty quickly is that people aren't exactly too fond of a guy with green skin, mind-reading powers, and a forehead that you could set family photos on. I tried for a really long time to get by in hiding. John Jones was a great guy. Real Joe Friday-type cop. "Just the facts, ma'am" and all that good stuff. The problem with old John is that I was always hiding inside his skin. John wasn't a real human guy. He was a Martian pretending to be a real human guy. And he. I.. (gets confusing, doesn't it) always knew that. J'Onn watched his friends, all these people around him with extraordinary abilities, going about normal lives, and was envious. Despite the image that people have of him now, J'Onn J'Onnz was not always this peaceful guru that he is today. Imagine, if you will, a man with the power to go toe to toe with Superman, who is trapped by the knowledge that he can never have a home and never be a part of the human race. Imagine the jealousy and anger that result from that. The constant attempts to be something else, something different than what you are, and always knowing that you are a phony. Bloodwynd, John Jones, even The Martian Manhunter, are all fabrications. The true man beneath the ever-shifting Martian flesh could never be himself. Until he created me.  
  
See, J'Onn happened upon this idea one day. What if he convinced himself that he was one of these people he could pretend to be. What if he made it so that even he didn't know whom he really was? Well, he was close to creating me. The problem was that he did have responsibilities. The Justice League depended on him for a lot of things, and they'd always done their best to accept him for who he was. How then, to go about making a normal life. The answer is how Marshall Mason (that's me) was born. Through hypnotic suggestion, J'Onn created in his brain the persona of Marshall Mason. He was who J'Onn J'Onnz had once been, before he'd been brutally torn from his home. A meek, kind, intelligent man who wanted little more than to marry and raise a family in peace and quiet. The only difference was that Marshall Mason was human. J'Onn spent months doing the research and imprinting it into the suggestion that he would trigger. His ability to mimic other shapes was limited only by his clarity of vision. He wrote the genome for Marshall Mason using the computers in the Watchtower. He created the necessary documents to support the past that he'd created for Marshall. He fashioned the tombstones for David and Ellen Mason and placed them in a Greensboro cemetery on a plot of earth that he paid for with funds from the fictional David Mason's computer-created bank account. When all his preparations were complete, he triggered the suggestion. His telepathic link to the League remained, so that whenever the Martian Manhunter was needed, he would be there, but whenever he was not, Marshall Mason would live a normal, human life. He could have a job. Have children, and live without any worries about the cosmic concerns that the League dealt with.  
  
So, that brings us to now. Marshall is a happy man. A bit confused some times, at what the doctors have diagnosed as chronic sleepwalking, but he is happy. And that's the point. After all, everyone deserves a little happiness, don't you think.  
  
Now, if you'll excuse me, it's time to get green and go save the world. I just have to remember to turn off the stove first. 


End file.
